Can all that's broken be repaired?
by Rhyxiaon
Summary: Post-Reichenbach. John is reeling from the loss of Sherlock when yet another discovery is made. So many drastic changes are occurring and there will be more to come. How will John cope with it all? How many times can one be broken before he can no longer be repaired? Slash. Mpreg. Johnlock, Watstrade.
1. Chapter 1

"Look, John..." Lestrade started as the two made their way back into the flat after a rather lengthy visit to the hospital. John had been found unconscious on the living room floor by Mrs. Hudson and he was surrounded by a pool of his own sick. In her panic, she called the ambulance and Detective Inspector Lestrade, unsure if this was an accident or something a bit more...intentional.

You see, John Hamish Watson had just lost his best friend Sherlock Holmes. He'd taken his own life by jumping from the top of the St. Bart's Hospital and John was there to witness it all. He even spoke to him on the phone as it happened. It had been about two months since the...incident and John went from inconsolable to emotionally vacant. If you ever spotted him out of the flat, it was a rare enough sight, but no one had seen even a glimmer of a smile on the army doctor's face since. They all, they being Molly, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, and even Mycroft Holmes, became exceedingly worried about what steps John may take next, as none of the ones he was taking were moving him forward.

Mrs. Hudson would hear him pacing around in the middle of the night, sometimes muttering deeply to himself, other times throwing things in fits of rage. She'd been up several times to check up on him, but it always ended up the same. He would politely decline the offer of any company and silently close the door, once again closing himself off from the outside world. After a while, everyone had decided that it would be for the best if they gave him a bit of space, but apparently that wasn't the best decision at all.

"...I know you're hurting," the lawman continued, not getting any response from the other person in the room. "...but you know he wouldn't want you to be like this."

John then whirled around faster than he meant to almost losing his balance. "And I didn't want him to throw himself off that bloody building!" he yelled. "How am I supposed to deal with this?! I can't...this is..."

Lestrade threw himself onto the now close to sobbing man. "You won't be alone, mate. You've got me, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, all of us will help you. Think of it as a lifeline. Something to give you give you the will to live on, yeah?" He slowly released Dr. Watson and slowly headed for the door.

"You call me if you need me," he instructed, knowing full well that the man in question would do no such thing. "and try to get something in your stomach. You are eating for two, now," he added and silently walked towards the door and closed it.

John just slumped to the floor and placed a hand on his stomach and began to stare at it. His eyes began to water and the only noise to come out of his mouth was the word: "Damn..."


	2. Chapter 2

I woke up from where I'd apparently fallen asleep on the floor and looked around in panic. Another nightmare. It was the same as it had been since...the incident. I saw him bounding for the earth and me being powerless to stop him. I saw his blood, covering the pavement, my hands, everything. His lifeless eyes staring back at me. I hurried to my feet and rushed to the restroom where I lost what little of my food I had left in my system. Once I'd finished I thought back to what lead me to be in this current predicament.

_Roughly three months prior..._

_'What if I were to say that I love you, John?'_

_'I would ask where you're hiding the drugs, because you're clearly on something.'_

_'Would it be so wrong for me to love you?'_

_'Sherlock,' John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 'You don't have to do this. I've come to terms with the fact that you don't and can't feel the same way about me. It's no big deal.'_

_'If it's no big deal, why do you look at me with such pain in your eyes when you think I can't see you? Why do you get so upset whenever I'm in danger or being slandered, or anything of the sort? Why do I do the same with you?'_

_'Maybe you're feeling a very close friendship, Sherlock. I mean, you've said yourself that you haven't had many...or any.'_

_With that Sherlock became silent. He then grabbed John's hand and placed upon his chest._

_'Then tell me, doctor, why does my heart begin to beat at such a rapid pace in your presence? Why do thoughts of you cloud my usual crystal-clear mind and it doesn't bother me in the slightest? Why do I find myself not only changing, but wanting to change for you?'_

_'Sherlock, I...'_

_'Why have I wanted to do this?' He then leaned over and chastely placed his lips atop John's and the two shared their first kiss. When they'd separated, John looked up at Sherlock with an expression that Sherlock hadn't seen._

_'John?'_

_'I can't believe this..."Married to my work," you said.' "...not really my area." _

_'What about your vehement and almost cyclical "I'm not gay" speech you've given everyone else?'_

_'Well, I'm not...I mean, I wasn't...I mean...' John sighed and gathered his thoughts. 'I've never felt this way about a man, any man, before you. Why could everyone else see what was right in front of us the entire time? Hell, Mrs. Hudson said so the first time she'd met me!'_

_'Perhaps, in this area, we aren't as intuitive as we could be.' Sherlock smirked._

_'What, the Great Sherlock Holmes, admitting a shortcoming? I think Hell will be opening an ice skating rink soon.'_

_Sherlock just rolled his eyes and looked into John's cerulean eyes. 'So what does this mean?'_

"_It means we're partners, just in more ways than one.' John announced. The two shared a long hug._

Approximately a week later, they'd consumated their relationship. The next day, Sherlock committed suicide.

To John, it made no sense. One minute he was on top of the world, the next he was watching his best friend and possibly the love of his life discredit himself and hurdle himself from a building. How could he do this? Why would he do this?

He'd found out later that Mycroft had basically sold Sherlock out to Moriarity. John was furious. He had to be forcibly removed from the Diogenes' Club for breaking the nose of the British Government. The last time he'd seen Mycroft, was at the funeral where he darkly gave the threat of death should he ever lay eyes on the 'umbrella waving sack of shit' again.

Every day since has been filled with long nights of staring at Sherlock's belongings, to fits of tears and anger, to restless sleep due to nightmares. It was like returning from Afghanistan all over again, except with one difference. He didn't lose his heart in Afghanistan. Moriarity told Sherlock that he would burn the heart out of him, well, it looked as if Ol' Jim had missed his target.

Now he's learned that those nights he spent sobbing and vomiting into the toilet hadn't been solely due to grief. John was currently two months pregnant with the child of Sherlock Holmes.

John held up a clipping of a newspaper with Sherlock's picture on it and stared at it.

"Well this is a right mess, you've left me in. How could you...I want to hate you, want to curse your very name, but I fell in love with you damn it. I thought you had felt the same. If you did you wouldn't have...Was I just an experiment to you? Testing on how well you can convince someone of your acting skills? What could I have said or done to keep you from doing this? From leaving me alone again. You gave me a reason to live and then you took it away again, I don't think I can ever forgive you for that."

John looked around the apartment in despair. There were too many memories. He couldn't stay there, he had to get out and find somewhere else to stay, for the sake of his sanity and the well being of the life inside of him. He had to try to move on.

* * *

About 3 weeks later John found an apartment outside of London, not being able to find an affordable place on his own. He'd finished packing up his things and he and Lestrade were currently piling stuff into the detective's truck, when a knock was heard at the door.

"You expecting someone?" Greg asked.

"No, Mrs. Hudson doesn't normally knock, besides she's out of town. Said she couldn't stand to watch me go."

John slowly made his way over to the door and opened it to find none other than Mycroft Holmes standing there. John tried to slam the door, but Mycroft stopped it with his umbrella.

"Dr. Watson, if you'll just give me a moment of your time."

"What, Mycroft? What could you possibly want?"

"To give you what is yours." he then held out a document. John tersely took it and began to read it. Once he'd finished, he tossed the paper back over to the Elder Holmes brother.

"No," he firmly stated. "I don't want it."

"...but John." Mycroft began.

"What's going on?" Greg asked, wondering if he needed to step in.

Ignoring the detective's inquiry, Mycroft continued. "Look, John. Sherl-"

"Don't say his name!" John shouted turning a furious glare onto the suited man.

"He...would want you to have it. I want you to have it. Look, mistakes were made, but that doesn't mean they can't be at least partially rectified."

"And you think that by giving me an obscene amount of money will ease the guilt of what you did to your own brother?"

"Of course not, think of your future, John. Don't you want to give your little one the best?"

"Already trying to manipulate me by using my child against me? Wow, that must be a new low, even for you. I'm perfectly capable of managing my own finances."

"Like you were before you met my brother?" Mycroft countered. "You were alone in that small apartment, barely getting by. You think that you'll easily find work after the scandal that has been caused by your connection with him? Skilled physician you may be, but you know as well as I that it's more than that these days. I'm only trying to help, John. I'm not completely heartless."

To that John just scoffed.

"No matter what happened between us, I loved Sherlock. He was my little brother. Sure our relationship was strenuous at the best of times, but I never stopped caring for him and watching over him. What happened with Moriarity wasn't my intention and I go to bed every night with that on my conscience. I'm trying to do what's right for the man who made my brother a better and happier man, and of course my future niece or nephew."

John sat down and pondered everything he was being told. "So now what, you think you can just hand me a bunch of money and you can rest easy? Nothing you give me can take the place of what you've taken."

"I undesrtand, John. Please just consider the offer. Should you agree to accept, just give an affirmative sign to a CCTV camera. I understand that you may not wish to see me in person."

"I thought I'd made that clear the last time I saw you, but you just do what you want anyway, don't you? You Holmes men, you just do what you want with no consideration for anyone else. You don't care who you hurt..."

Mycroft just lowered his head a tad, his face was a stoic and blank as ever, though. He just gave a curt nod, picked up his umbrella and walked out of the door.

John leaned back in the chair he was now sitting in nd the familiar sting of tears forming in his eyes began. Greg placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and sat with him. No words were exchanged, but Greg knew that nothing he could say would help right now, all he could do was be there for someone who felt like his world was caving in.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Silly me, I've forgotten to do the disclaimer where I point of that this is a work of fiction that contain characters that don't belong to me. I'm quite certain no one was under the impression that I was either Sir Arthur Conan Doyle or anyone from the BBC, so I figured it was a moot point. Now that the legal stuff is out of the way, let's continue, shall we?

* * *

Days turned to weeks, but to John it was as if it was all one big blur. He spent his days lying in bed, staring at the ceiling with enough intensity to burn through it, were he able. Of course this time was punctuated by his morning sickness and hunger. John continued to live on, but only barely. Greg would stop by every so often. They'd sit and chat, steering the conversation as far away from Sherlock as humanly possible. They spoke of recent sporting events and John's new neighbors, who apparently had begun assuming that Greg was his boyfriend.

"Would that be such a bad thing?" Greg tentatively asked.

"What? Us dating?" John gasped through laughter. "I have to say you can do better than the sad mess I've become. Besides, pretty soon there'll be a kid and..."

"I know, but..." Greg sharply inhaled and continued. "You're a pretty decent bloke, John. You're smart, kind, and funny. I can't remember the last time my ex and I ever came close to having the conversations we have had. She was always so career oriented and I guess I was too."

"Greg, I appreciate it, but... Look, I'm not going to lie and say I haven't thought about it. I mean, you've been so helpful and kind throughout all of this. Other than Mrs. Hudson, you're the only other person I have. You know about my sister and I and my parents...let's just say even if they were alive, they wouldn't have been any help."

"So what's the problem? I mean, I know I'm not the best looking bloke..." he said, patting his slight tummy from a few too many takeaways.

"That's not it at all, Greg. You see, all my life, I just knew I was straight. Never gave blokes a second glance, but then HE came along. Suddenly everything I thought I was, that I knew about myself, was different. I hate him for what he's done, but I can't see myself ever not loving him."

"I wouldn't dream of asking you to." Greg quickly said. "I was just wondering if there may be room for me in your heart. It doesn't have to be now, I'm willing to wait."

"I cant ask you to do that, Greg..."

"Who said you're asking me? Look, as long as you need me, I'll be there. Not because I want you to feel like you owe me or anything, but because...I'm falling for you. I really am. As scary as that is, I wouldn't stop it for anything. I don't want to be Sherlock's replacement, hell I couldn't be even if I wanted to. Just...give it some thought, yeah? No matter what you decide, I'll understand."

With that Greg placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder, gave a comforting squeeze and silently left the apartment.

John leaned back in his chair and with a deep sigh, let what just happened replay in his mind. He did that until he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

_John was running through a dense jungle. His breathing was labored, his legs were aching but he continued running. He was chasing after something, as if his very life depended on it. He darted through the trees desperately searching until he saw it. In a small clearing, stood a jet-black panther with eyes as silver as the moon. The panther stood there glaring at John, as though it were appraising him. After an uncertain amount of time, the panther slowly turned and darted off further into the jungle. John once again gave chase. He had to catch up to it. For what reason, he was unsure. _

_The chase continued until the panther was camouflaged by the darkness of the jungle. Suddenly, John was alone. He couldn't see which direction the wildcat fled, and he didn't know what direction to go next. He turned around in place, searching for some sort of clue of where to go next. He began to panic, he was alone with no hope of escape, no hope of catching up to the elusive feline. He dropped to his knees in desperation and began to pull at his hair. John got up and frantically began running again, not caring which direction he went. He was plunging further and further into darkness as the trees began to fade from his sight. Suddenly, there was a loud howl. John stopped and looked around searching for the source. _

_Slowly approaching him was a grey wolf surrounded by an aura of soft white light that cut through the darkness. The majestic beast walked slowly in front of John, blocking his path. With the light emanating from the wolf, he saw that he was a few steps away from plummeting from a cliff. John jumped back in fear and fell on his back. The wolf approached John and once he'd gotten within reach, he gently lowered his head in a show of submission. John tentatively reached out and pet the wolf and as he did the wolf began to change. Suddenly, Greg Lestrade was standing before him with the same ethereal glow. Greg proffered his hand to help John up. _

_'It's ok...I'm here now.' he whispered into the doctor's ear as he helped him up. _

_'I'm here now..." he repeated, and John felt the fear and panic he was plagued with a few moments before wash away in almost an instant. Greg began to grow brighter and brighter until..._

John blearily opened his eyes and quickly shielded them from the sunlight beaming through his window. He stretched his aching muscles and realized he must have dozed off in the chair. Looking at his watch he saw that is was about three in the afternoon the next day. He thought back to his dream. His very strange and very vivid dream. John was not a man of faith or of superstition. What he did know was that his subconscious was trying to tell him something.

He reached around for his cell phone and dialed Greg's personal line at work.

"John? Is everything all right?" He quickly asked, not used to receiving calls from the good doctor at work.

"Yes, yes everything's fine. I wanted to ask you...ask if you wanted to grab dinner or something tonight." he clumsily asked.

For a few seconds there was a pause and finally Greg said "Sure...I'll come 'round 8, all right?"


	4. Chapter 4

Deep within a slum in downtown Moscow, a tall lanky figure rested against brick wall. He was beaten and wounded. He drearily looked up to the star filled night sky and watched as his breath visibly escaped from him and vanished into the atmosphere. Suddenly his phone chimed.

"Status update – MH"

"Bershov terminated, off to Prague next. - SH" After a thoughtful pause, he sent another text. "John?" was all it said.

"I don't know – MH"

"You don't know?! Surely you can come up with a better lie than that. - SH"

"He's alive. Your focus must be on your mission. - MH"

"He's the reason for the mission, if you recall. - SH"

"I'll send you the details of the next target – MH"

"Mycroft, answer me! - SH"

He never received a response. After a few minutes, he just sighed heavily and reached into his coat pocket in search of his cigarettes. _'John would be most displeased were he to discover these. I better make sure I break the habit before I return.' _he idly thought to himself. He then picked himself up and hobbled to his hotel to prepare for the next leg of his journey.


	5. Chapter 5

John walked into the offices of the New Scotland Yard. It was his first time back since...everything had happened, so he pretty much expected the stares he received the second he walked in. It also didn't help that he was about 4 months along and had a bit more of a paunch than any of them remembered. He picked up his pace trying to make it to his destination, but was stopped by a familiar black woman with a constant bad attitude.

"John, what are you doing here? Didn't expect to see you around." she inquired.

"I'm just here to see the Detective Inspector." He briskly said, trying to end the conversation there. Unfortunately, Sally wasn't hearing it.

"I'm sorry about...I'm sorry, John. But I did try to warn you."

John tensed up but tried to remain polite. "Yes, well..."

"I mean, the Freak was bound to off someone sooner or later. You're just lucky it wasn't you."

While she was speaking, she'd turned away to rifle through some papers. By the time her attention was back on the doctor he was a brilliant shade of red and looking like the next murder to be committed was to be by his hands.

"Are you done?" he tersely asked.

Seeing that she may have hit a nerve, she tried to backpedal. "Look, John. I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just glad you got out of it unhurt, is all. I mean, the way you two were going, I thought you'd be married with a kid pretty soon. What a disaster that would have been..."

"Meaning?"

"I mean, no offense John, but any kid with those genes...well, if it were me I'd go ahead and terminate the thing befo..."

"THAT. IS. IT!" John bellowed in a voice previously unheard of from the mild mannered doctor. They of course forget that he was a high ranked official in the Army.

"How dare you stand there think you have the right to judge ANYONE on their behaviour?! You didn't know him the way I knew him! You didn't know him at all! YOU were too busy passing judgements on a man who pointed out your myriad of faults on a daily basis. Perhaps if you weren't so busy making yourself available for another woman's husband, you'd have had more time to see him for the person he actually was! Now before another idiotic word falls out of that mouth of yours, get one thing clear. If you ever and I do mean EVER speak ill of Sherlock Holmes in my presence once more I'll..."

"Donovan!" Greg called from behind John, catching them both and everyone who was listening in off guard. "My office, 10 minutes. We'll be discussing your behavior in-depth, am I clear?" he said with a smoldering glare of his own.

"Crystal, sir." She growled out before stomping away.

"John, I need you to calm down and follow me." Greg gently whispered placing a hand on John's shoulder. Heavily panting, he complied with the DI's wishes. Once inside the office, he directed him to a chair and sat at his desk.

"Look, I'm sorry you had to deal with that. I was hoping you'd be able to avoid her and Anderson for the short while you were here. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine...She just got to me for a bit."

"I understand, but you very nearly threatened a police officer, which is a crime."

"I know, but...wait. Were you listening the whole time?"

"Not the whole time, Just the part where you starting barking like a mad dog. Once I saw who you were barking at, I knew what had set you off. Look, you can't let her get to you. The stress isn't good for..."

"I know that!" he snapped. Once he realized how harsh his words sounded, he apologized and sighed. "Look, things haven't been easy...I've had to deal with comments like hers from complete strangers, people who've read about us in the news. Even though I've moved, I can't escape it...or him. It's all just so..."

Greg got up from his chair and walked over to comfort the doctor who was tearing up before him.

"I'm sorry, John. You've got a lot to deal with right now, and a lot more on the way. Just...don't try to do it alone, all right? Call me, come to me, whatever and whenever."

"This isn't your responsibility, Greg! I can't ask you to drop everything because people are being mean to me. I am not weak, by any means. You don't have to..."

"No, I don't. But I want to and I'm going to. John, I care about you...a lot. Why won't you let me?"

"Because I can't lose you too."

"W-what, but I..."

"You're a Detective Inspector of the New Scotland Yard. Your life is on the line every time you step away from this desk. I won't let what happened before happen again. I've lost too many people, I can't..."

Greg began to deeply chuckle. "You sound exactly like my ex-wife. Look, how's what I do any different from what you and Sherlock did? I think you guys did more dangerous things actually."

"But we did them together. I was always there to watch that idiot's back...all but one time. I can't do it, Greg. I'm sorry."

"I understand." he sighed heavily and began rubbing his face. "Just promise me, that if you change your mind, I'll be the first one you contact, all right?"

John just nodded and solemnly walked out, leaving behind a trail of stares and whispers behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

A few weeks had passed and John had fallen into a new sort of routine. He'd get up every morning and have a nice breakfast. Then he'd read the day's headlines and went out to the shops. The town he lived in was a sleepy suburb compared to the hustle and bustle of London. It was an ideal place to relax and rest and John was bloody well sick of it. He missed the rush of people, the blaring noises of traffic, the grandoise of the metropolitan. But, every time he thought back on those days, thoughts of...him came with them. So, he figured it's better to be bored and somewhat active than back there and miserable. Besides in roughly 4 months, he'd be the father of what the scans show to be twin boys. He couldn't wait until they arrived, he so hated the loneliness.

Harry had been by a couple times to visit, but never fully sober, so the last time she'd visitied he'd told her that if she couldn't come sober to not come at all. It seemed she'd taken to heart his words. Mrs. Hudson visited once, but couldn't stop tearing up. Whether it was from the fact that one of 'her boys' was about to be a father or the fact that the other wouldn't be around to see it. She also brought back to many memories of a life that he was trying to leave behind.

He missed Greg's visits most of all. Before he'd broken things off they'd been on three dates. Each one nicer than the last. It was as if he didn't have to try with Greg nor Greg with him. They fell into a comfortable companionship that John had mised. With Sherlock almost everything he said was a target for ridicule, but he didn't have to worry about that with Greg, so talking became a bit easier. No subject was out of bounds and John became visibly more relaxed. He then became insecure. Things didn't go this well for him without turning to hell soon after. He didn't want to think about what it would be like to fall any deeper with Greg, only to lose him as well. He told himself it was for his own protection, for his own sanity. So, why did he feel like his sanity was dwindling by the day?

Given the enormous, although begrudgingly accepted, amount of money he'd received from the Holmes' estate, he hadn't needed to find a job and probably wouldn't well into old age, but he still wanted to find something to occupy himself. Trouble was, he didn't really leave his house much, other than going to the shops. It was almost like those first few months back from Iraq, except for two very big differences. Both of which he began to feel moving in his abdomen earlier in the week. He knew sooner or later he'd have to change, because he'd have to wrangle twin boys pretty soon and if they're anything like him or their other father...he's going to have a full-time job on his hands.

* * *

Greg Lestrade was depressed. He went through his days on auto-pilot and sometimes that was ineffective. He couldn't get the endearing blond doctor out of his head. He'd respected John's wishes by not pressing for them to be in a relationship right now, but it didn't stop him from wanting one. He wanted so badly to be there and protect him and his baby. He'd made a mental note to call and ask if he knew what he was having yet. He was dying to know. He wanted to know everything, he wanted to be there every step of the way. He'd never felt this way about his wife. That was more of a marriage of convenience. They were both from decent middle class homes and figured that it was the thing to do at that age. They ended things amicably, but he never thought he'd risk any of that again, but that was before...

Well, Greg couldn't pinpoint when it was he'd fallen for John. The petit blond man intrigued him from the moment he'd laid eyes on him, but not in the way he's feeling now. First, he felt confusion for anyone who is a 'colleague' of Sherlock Holmes, must not be fully aware. Then, it was respect. John had shot and killed for a man he'd known for about a day. He knew after Sherlock's deduction just who it was, but he just didn't report it. It was because he knew that he would be good for Sherlock, make him more human, and he'd almost achieved that goal...until. He hated Sherlock for what he'd done. It just didn't make any sense and once John found out he was pregnant, the hatred increased tenfold.

John had shared so much with Greg during their talks about Sherlock. He shared his past, his insecurites, his bewilderment at the sudden attraction to Sherlock Holmes after being 'decidedly straight for almost 40 years'. They initially formed a bond as two of the men who could put up with Sherlock's abuse and not punch him in the face...too hard. Then, at least on Greg's part it became a much more physical attraction, but out of respect of John and Sherlock, he never acted on or even voiced those feelings to anyone.

He was shaken from his thoughts by his cell phone ringing. No number appeared on the screen, but against his better judgement he answered it anyway.

"Hullo?" he gruffed into the phone.

"Detective Lestrade, I need you to go to St. Mary's Hospital immediately. Head to the emergency room."

"What? Who is this?"

"Mycroft Holmes. Please, do as I've said and hurry. John's been hurt."

As soon as he'd heard John's name, his keys were in hand and he was slamming his office door, rushing to the hospital.


	7. Chapter 7

Once making it past reception and finding out his location, Greg raced to John's room without any delay. He arrived to see John lying in bed with his left arm in a cast and his right hand covering his face. Having just run down the hallway, he was a bit out of breath, which was what alerted John to his presence.

"Greg?" John asked, slowly turning his head in that direction, but knowing immediately who it was.

"I'm here now" he said in between breaths. He watched as a sort of shocked look passed over John's face before he relaxed into a watery smile.

"Yes, you are. Uh, thanks for that. H-How did you know about...?"

"Mycroft called me. Said there had been an accident. Are you all right? The baby?"

Ignoring the name Mycroft for just a second, John sighed and sat up a bit more in his bed. "I'm fine and so are the babies."

"Babies? Plural?"

"Yeah, I never mentioned it? Sorry. Well, anyway, I got back from the shops and found that my place was broken into. Just as I was about to call the police, I noticed that there was still someone there. As I went for my pistol, one of them caught me off guard and tried to bean me over the head with something."

"One of them? How many were there?!"

"...Two. Before I knew it, my training kicked in and I started to fight back. As I was struggling with the first one, the other comes up behind me. I swung my arm around and slammed it against his jaw, breaking it and my arm, apparently. So when I turned back to the first one, I had time to aim my pistol between his eyes. He starts blubbering about how he 'don't want no trouble or nuffin'."

"John..." Greg said sympathetically. As John was telling the story, his face was white as a sheet. He didn't sound as afraid as he looked. He and Sherlock have probably dealt with worse in their time, but he didn't have Sherlock there anymore. No one was there...He should have been there.

"Well, I suppose because I dialed the police, they came anyway by tracking the GPS in my phone. That must be how Mycroft found out and told you." John deduced.

"Are you all right?" Greg asked once more.

"I said I'm fine, I mean, it happens every day doesn't it? Happens every day..." John said, his voice trailing off at the end.

"But you could have been..."

"I know!" he snapped. "I know that. I could have been killed or lost the babies and I'm lucky to walk away with just a couple fractures in my arm." He paused and then raggedly looked at Greg once more.

"Exactly! Why couldn't you just have left and just called the police? You're not in any condition to be playing the hero, right now!"

"I know..."

"No! You don't! When I heard that there had been an accident, I didn't know what to expect, but all of it was bad. But now that I've heard what happened, I'm furious."

"Excuse me?! Furious for what? Me defending myself?"

"In a situation that you didn't have to! You played with not only your life, but your children's lives!"

"I didn't know that they were still there until I was attacked! You think I wanted for any of this to happen?!"

"No, but..you said that you realized someone was still there and then you went for your pistol! Why don't you get it? Had you died, you would have left me in a situation similar to the one Sherlock left you in!"

"Don't you dare equate that to this! He jumped from that building. What I did was in self-preservation..."

"AFTER you had gotten yourself into the situation. Why? Because you weren't thinking. This wouldn't have happened if you had just..." Greg sighed and ran his hands through his silver hair. "Look, I'm just...You know how I feel about you. You said that the reason we couldn't be together was because you couldn't stand to lose me...I don't want to lose you either."

There was a beat of silence. Suddenly, John spoke again. "You know, I was thinking of you while it was happening..." he whispered. "The first name that came to my mind when I began to panic was yours. Once I'd gotten here and everything calmed down, I thought back on that. I immediately felt guilty because I was so in love with Sherlock. I never thought I'd feel this way about someone so soon. Then, I got angry. He chose to jump from that building. He chose to end his life and apparently, I wasn't a good enough reason to stop him, so that love may have been more one-sided than I realized. Don't get me wrong. I miss the bastard, but it was you I wanted to be there...he's gone now, and I can't bring him back."

Greg slowly closed the distance between the two and put one arm around the doctor. "Then let me be there, because I promise you, it's exactly where I want to be as well." He then softly kissed John and John readily returned it.


	8. Chapter 8

Sherlock sat in his one bedroom apartment in Belize, where his next target was. His signature curls were shaved off and what was growing in its place was dyed a honey blonde. He was even slimmer than ever without his doctor to make sure he was eating. His face was covered with little scars, but his body had taken the most damage. He was currently staging an operation to lure out yet another of Moriarity's henchmen. With each target neutralized, he came closer and closer to his goal. He hoped John wouldn't be too angry with him, not once he shared what all he'd done for him. He still remembers that look of pure agony on John's face as he was lifted into the ambulance that was actually filled with Mycroft's men.

"_I-I can't be a party to this! What would John say if he ever found out?" Molly screamed at the person before her who a couple hours ago she was convinced was dead. _

"_He must never find out! This is very serious, Molly. His life and the lives of others hang in the balance."_

"_So say your mission is a success...how will you explain COMING BACK FROM THE DEAD?!" Molly had apparently lost both the crush on Sherlock as well as her meek demeanor, as he'd never heard her voice get that loud or that fierce. _

"_. . .I'll just explain everything. John will understand."_

"_Will he? He's distraught, Sherlock. We almost had to keep him from following you off the roof of this place, and you think that he'll just..."_

"_He will!"_

"_I still think this is monumentally selfish, Sherlock."_

"_You don't understand just what is at stake here. I can't sit here and make a stupid girl realize what's going on, I've got a mission to fulfill."_

"_Fine, I wish you luck on your mission," she spat sarcastically. "Just what is John to do in all of this?"_

"_...I just want him to live."_

"_And if he learns to live without you?"_

"_. . ." _

After all this time, Sherlock still had no answer to that. What if John had learned to live without him. It stood to reason after all. For all intent and purpose, John thinks him dead.

'No...no matter what, he'll be there. We can go back to how it was. I just have to be gone for a bit longer, John.' he thought before putting on a cap and heading towards the door. He after all, had a job to do.


	9. Chapter 9

As time marched on, John fell deeper for the Detective Inspector than he'd previously thought possible. At first, he just attributed it to the pregnancy hormones, but sooner or later he'd realized it was becoming much more than that. His logic and reason were telling him to run from this, before he gets hurt once more. But his heart...that was another story.

They sat in the living room of Greg's house, planning out when John would move in and leave his old place behind. When it was first proposed, he was dead set against it. "No theiving punks are going to drive me out of my home!" he swore. He soon realized that once again, he was letting his pride cloud his judgement. It wasn't as if he'd grown particularly attached to the place, he hadn't lived there long enough to. It wasn't in a really safe neighborhood, if there was such a thing anymore, and by moving in with Greg, not only would he have a bit more protection, but the loneliness he felt day after day would become a thing of the past.

There were arguments. John would compare Greg to Sherlock, only to offend the police officer. Greg would suffocate John with his constant concern over him doing the simplest tasks while nursing a broken arm as well as carrying two children. Greg's work kept him out of the house a majority of the week, and John argued it was no different to living alone. Greg sometimes grew weary of John's reluctance to further intimacy, even though he thoroughly understood the reason.

Despite all of this, they managed to work as a couple. They shared ideas for baby names and future careers for the twins. They respected and trusted the other with their lives, no matter how angry they got at each other, knowing all too well how quickly a life can be taken away. Though he worried for him greatly, John would never want Greg to give up his post at Scotland Yard. He understands how it feels to do what you love and help others no matter the cost. It was why he became a doctor and why he joined the Army. It was why he followed Sherlock to hell and back, and would have continued to do so had he not jumped.

John would think of Sherlock every now and again. Would he tell the boys about him? Will they only know Greg to be their second father? What would Sherlock say if he knew about the pregnancy? Would he have been happy? He never was too fond of children. These thoughts came less and less often as time went on. As much as he loved Sherlock, he couldn't forgive his actions and he couldn't spend his life and his children's lives trying to appease a ghost. He was certain Mycroft would try to get involved somehow, but he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

He hadn't heard from Mycroft since the day he informed him of the money. He couldn't say he was bothered by it at all. He still greatly disliked the man for his role in Sherlock's death, but he can't say he was greatly fond of him before that, either.

John looked over to where his partner was sitting on the other end of the couch. Before he knew it, Greg had swooped in and saved him before he even realized he needed to be saved. He put up with his emotional baggage, his paranoia, and was thrilled to be a part of the twins' lives. Greg was showing him that it was ok to be happy again, and for that he'd always be grateful.

Sensing a pair of eyes on him, Greg turned from the TV and looked over to his partner.

"I love you," John wistfully stated while appraising Greg with the softest and most serene face he'd ever seen John make. Greg was momentarily stunned as this was the first time it had been said in their relationship. To be honest, he'd wanted to say it for a while, but he hadn't expected that it would go over so well with John now. Greg knew how important Sherlock was to John, he knew it from the moment he saw the two walk away from the scene with the murder of the taxi cab killer. Sherlock was also important to Greg. Greg respected Sherlock, thought he was amazing, but didn't let his personality and his intellect intimidate him. Sherlock was a challenge, but Greg considered him to be a friend. He was furious when he'd found out what Sherlock had done, not only to John, but to him as well. To lose a friend to suicide, to never know what you could have said or done to have kept them going, to never have the chance to try is one of the worst feelings in the world. Sherlock had thrown everything and everyone away when he made that jump.

"I love you, too." he gently responded. He honestly and truly did. He never saw it coming, but then who could. He was glad to be there for John and to have John be there for him. John saved him from an emptiness he which he wasn't even aware. John made him think about things, made him feel things, instead of burying it all in busy work. He admired John's strength and ability to love and hoped that his boys would come to know the full extent of that love one day.

He placed a hand on John's 7 and a half month baby bump and while gently stroking it whispered, "I love you guys, too." He was getting something he never thought would be possible, the chance to be a father. He'd wanted this for so long, but it was something that his ex never wanted, so he'd given up hope. He was going to get to do with them what he did with his dad. Family trips, sporting events, school plays, everything. If he could, he'd thank John every day he was alive for what he's given him.

He felt small thumps underneath his hands. Apparently, the boys were enjoying the attention they were receiving.

"So, when we finalize the move, we can get the nursery all set up and..."

The two settled in to a long chat about what was to come and all the joy that was to come with it.


	10. Chapter 10

"John! What a pleasant surprise! Come in dear, take a load off." Mrs Hudson fussed as she ushered John into the building. "Detective Inspector, always a pleasure," she greeted as Greg walked in behind them.

"You can call me Greg, ma'am." he reminded her.

"Of course." She smiled. "So what brings you two here? Shouldn't you be in bed John? You look like you're about to pop."

John rubbed his 8 and a half month belly, slightly embarrassed. "Yes, well. I was going mad staying in all day, so I thought I'd pop 'round for a visit. And..." he then glanced at Greg who watched the two from his chair. "To let you know that, I'd like you to be the twins' god-grandmother."

"Oh dear!" She sprang up and enveloped John in yet another hug, this time with a few tears in her eyes. "I'd be more than happy to! Oh, you know how to make an old woman cry, don't you?"

"Not my intention." John chuckled, gently rubbing the back of the closest thing to a mother he's had in so many years.

"Oh, I can't wait to meet them! I'm sure you four will make an adorable little family!" she gushed.

"F-Four?" John gasped. He hadn't told her he and Greg were dating, but given the look on her face, she'd probably known for who knows how long. She knew about him and Sherlock instantly. He just broke down into a chuckle. "How do you do it, Mrs. Hudson?"

"You don't live to be my age without learning to spot love." She winked. "By the way, John. It's Marie."

"Hm?" he deftly responded.

"My name...it's Marie. Have I not told you, dear?"

John paused and reeled at the fact that not only had he never know her first name, he'd never really thought to ask. "Uh, no. You hadn't. Well, given that you're family, I should know basic things like that." he laughed. The other two adults joined him in laughter and they sat and enjoyed each other's company.

* * *

John was perched on his and Greg's bed, unpacking his clothes and putting away. He had to sit down because not only were his feet in pain, but he'd had a nagging irregular pain in his back all day. He just shrugged it off as being towards the end of his pregnancy and saw Greg off to work this morning. It was now about four in the afternoon and he was getting a bit hungry. He set his last shirt on the bed and with a bit of difficulty, stood to head to the kitchen. It was at that moment an intense pain shot up his back and across his lower regions. He dropped to his knees in pain and grit his teeth in anger at his stupidity. The pains he'd been passing off were early contractions. He should have been to the hospital hours ago. He was a doctor, for crying out loud. Granted it was his first pregnancy, but he saw it as no excuse. He reached for his cell phone atop his dresser and dialed Greg's office number. He didn't receive an answer. He tried his cell phone...nothing. Just as he was about to call for emergency services, another contraction hit him and he dropped the phone in shock.

_'They're too close together...FUCK. This is not good.'_

He grabbed his phone once more and tried both numbers leaving a very terse and panicked message on both. Giving up, he dialed for an ambulance and waited on the floor.

Greg had just finished getting a statement from a murder victim's sister and he was on his way back to the station. Before he started the car, he grabbed the phone to let John know he'd be a little late tonight and to just order some take-aways for himself. He saw he had two missed calls from John and a voicemail. As he listened to the voicemail, he went white as a sheet. He fumbled with his seat belt and sped off towards his home. He called Donovan and told her to not expect him back at the office tonight.

"But sir, what about the statement? Is everything all right? What's going on?"

"I'm about to become a dad!" he yelled and swiftly hung up.

After a few minutes of driving at the speed of sound, he arrived at his house just as an ambulance was pulling in. He jumped out of the car and ran inside, paramedics in hot pursuit.

"JOHN!" he yelled. "John! Where are you?!"

"U-h-re!" came a muffled response from upstairs. Taking them three at a time, Greg darted upstairs and found John writhing on the ground in what he was sure was pure agony.

"Hey! I'm here...Trying to start this whole fatherhood thing without me?" he joked.

"Not my intention." he said through gritted teeth. The paramedics swooped in and surrounded John. They carefully picked him up and loaded him into the ambulance. Greg hopped in and they zoomed towards St. Bart's.


	11. Chapter 11

Greg blearily wandered down the hallways of the hospital. He was exhausted. He's spent hours with John, worrying, hoping, comforting. He can't remember the last time he slept, but according to his calculations, it had to have been around 36 hours ago. He moved slowly down the corridor on autopilot, but he was on a mission. He kept walking until he approached a set of double doors leading to an area with a large plexiglass window. He peered in and saw tons of little bassinets, each holding a new life recently ushered into the world. He scanned the room until he'd found what he was looking for.

'Baby Boy Watson A' and 'Baby Boy Watson B' were what the cards read and Greg looked at the squirming bundles who were restlessly trying to figure out their new environment. He'd seen them when they were just born, Baby A was definitely going to be a blond, while Baby B had a smattering of chocolate-colored wisps growing from his head. He beamed at them and waved through the glass.

"Which one's yours, mate?" A gruff voice with a thick Irish accent called from over his shoulder. Greg turned and was face to face with a man holding a video camera with an actual camera hanging from his neck. He also had several buttons on his shirt that read, 'It's a girl.'

"Uh, those two...just there." He said, pointing out the babies.

"Two? Good luck there!" the man chuckled. "That's my little princess right over here." he said, pointing out his own newborn.

"She's beautiful," Greg responded politely. "Congratulations."

"Thanks, you too. I can't believe it, y'know. I'm a parent! I've never been so happy and so terrified in all me life."

"I know how you feel." Greg responded, looking back over at the boys. He was just in awe of everything they did, while it may not have been much, it was everything to Greg. He knew he wasn't genetically related to them, and that would always bother him a little bit, but that didn't stop him from loving them as if they were. He already had so many plans, so much he wanted to do with them, to teach them. Greg Lestrade was hooked.

"You got any names lined up?" the other new father asked amicably.

"We have a few, but I'm going to let their other father decide."

"I see. Well, allow me to introduce you to Caitlin Michelle McAuley. My name's Kieran, by the by."

"Greg," he stated, shaking Kieran's hands. "That's a beautiful name."

"She's named for the most beautiful woman in the world, her mother. Looks just like her, bless her. Already got me wrapped 'round her wee finger and not even a day old. She's her mother's daughter, all right."

Greg sat and listened as Kieran gushed with pride over his little family and wondered if he looked as happy as Kieran did, or even as he felt. After a while, Greg figured that John would be waking up from his drug induced sleep and figured he should get back.

"Congrats again, mate," Greg said patting Kieran on the back. "You'll be a great dad."

"Thanks. You too." Kieran said returning to the window to stare at his daughter some more.

* * *

John was lying in bed staring at the ceiling. He'd done it. He'd become a father. He'd given birth to children...Sherlock's children. He once again cursed Sherlock for doing what he did. He'd never meet the children he helped create. He'd never get to try to be the parent that neither of them had, but desperately wanted to be. He'd given up so much when he killed himself.

Now, he has Greg. It came as just as much of a shock as his relationship with Sherlock. They were so different it was crazy. Where Sherlock was coarse and boorish, Greg was gentle and polite. Sherlock had his secrecy, but Greg was an open book. Sherlock struggled with things like affection, while Greg gave it in large supply. John was glad Greg stepped into his life as not only a friend but a partner. He could already tell that he loved the boys immensely and loved the idea of being their father.

Would he tell them about Sherlock one day? About how they came to be? Perhaps, sometime down the line when they were mature enough to handle it, he figured.

He was jolted from his thoughts by Greg entering his room.

"Hey, you're up." He whispered.

"Yeah, just barely. Those drugs take a lot out of you. Childbirth doesn't really help either." He chuckled.

"I'd imagine. They're beautiful, John. They really are."

"Thanks. We Watsons are always cute babies." he joked.

"Yeah...about that. I was wondering if...if we could make their last name Lestrade instead."

"I-I don't know, Greg. I mean I love you for stepping in as their dad, but I really don't want you to feel like you have to take on so much at once."

"Well, y'see...the thing is...I was wondering if maybe you'd make your last name Lestrade, as well."

"W-what?"

Greg then leaned against the bed and pulled something out of his pocket before getting down on one knee.

"You've given me so much in the past few months, more than I ever hoped you'd be able to or want to give me. We may not have known each other for decades, but I feel closer to you than anyone else in the world. Will you, John Hamish Watson, marry me?"

John began to exhale quite rapidly. He stared at Greg in shock.

"Greg, you're serious, about this aren't you?"

"I am. I want us to be even more of a family than we already are."

"But Greg, you sure that you want it to be me? I mean I have so much emotional baggage and..."

"We aren't meeting for the first time. I know almost everything there is to know about you and I love it all."

"What if we don't work out? Like your ex? I mean, I don't want to..."

"What do you feel right now?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"I-I feel...like I love you. I appreciate everything you've done for me, and how happy you've made me in a time where I didn't think happiness would be an option."

"Then we can make it work. As long as I've got you three, I'll never let go."

"Fine..."

"Fine?"

"Yeah...I guess, I'll marry you, ya great softie."

Greg leapt from the floor and wrapped his arms around John.

"ARGH! Still in pain!" John yelled. Greg hopped back off.

"Sorry!"

"It's all right," John panted clutching his side.

"So, now that we've got their last names settled, we should probably give them first names." Greg suggested.

"I've already chosen them. Lucas Gregory and Nigel Johnathan."

"Which is which?"

"Lucas is the blond and Nigel is the brunet. Their names mean 'light' and 'dark'"

"That's actually pretty well thought out," Greg praised.

"Well, I'm no Sherlock, but I get by." he said softly. It was getting easier and easier to say his name and joke around about him, but the look on John's face at the moment said that he still had a long way to go.

"Well, a parent and engaged all in one day. How do you do it, Dr. Watson?"

"Elementary, my dear Lestrade."


	12. Chapter 12

Two years, three months, and five days...

The late nights of crying and feeding, the planning of a wedding, the promotion to chief inspector, the preparations for the opening of a home practice, the teething, first steps, first words...so much laughter and joy. So much love.

It lasted for two years, three months and five days. Then life was once again turned upside down.

* * *

John Watson was out doing some shopping. He had to find some way to kill time as his fiancé was currently at work, trying to adjust to his new position, and his boys were with their grandparents (Greg's mother and father) for the week. He was glad for the few days of rest, but he'd already begun to miss his boys. They weren't rambunctious or naughty by any means. They were almost painfully shy, but devastatingly curious. Everything and anything fascinated them. He or Greg would find them playing with something for hours on end, until they'd satisfied their curiosity and sought out the next target. They were just beginning to make basic sentences, but that didn't stop them from getting their point across. John had limited experience with children, so he often wondered if it was just a trait of youth to be so vibrant and enthusiastic, or was this a trait unique to his boys, at least on this level.

John strolled down the aisles, picking up a few sweets that the boys enjoyed, but his fiancé insisted they didn't need. Hyperactive toddlers are a struggle for people younger than them, with them both being in their forties, it was getting to be more and more of a challenge. As he reached for a jar of strawberry jam from the shelf, a hand landed on his shoulder. As soon as he turned around, his vision went blurry and he lost consciousness.

When John managed to awaken, he realized a few things. One, he was no longer in the store. Two, he was bound to a chair in what looked to be a warehouse. Finally, there was someone sitting opposite him.

"Morning, Captain. Nice of you to join me." The man called from his spot. John had heard that voice before...he'd seen that face before. Rage bubbled forth in an instant.

"Mycroft..." he growled through bared teeth. "What in the HELL is going on."

"I needed to speak with you and I assumed you'd be most unwilling to come of your own accord."

"So you drug me in the middle of a shop?! You unbelievable and utter bastard!" he yelled. "Why am I tied up?!" He asked struggling against the binds.

"Come now, it only takes one broken nose for me to figure out that this was the best alternative. Besides, what I have to discuss will not be easy to hear."

"So you're afraid of me?"

"Not at all, I'm merely looking out for myself and you as well. You can be quite a danger to yourself when you're upset." He blankly stated. "Now, I believe it's time we got to the matter at hand."

Figuring he wouldn't be released until he at least feigned listening, John sat still and waited for Mycroft to continue.

"Approximately three years ago, you witnessed the death of my brother. However, what you saw...was not entirely accurate."

"Excuse me?"

"What he's saying is..." a familiar baritone voice called from behind John. John's eyes immediately widened. _'This isn't happening...it can't be.' _

"...I'm alive, John." Sherlock Holmes stood before him in all of his former majesty. His signature coat on with the collar turned up...those cheekbones, that hair...it was him in the flesh.

"W-what?" John gasped as he took in the man before him. "You died...This isn't possible. YOU DIED! I buried you!"

"Now, just calm down, John."

"No! FUCK YOU! You don't get to tell me to be calm after returning from the fucking DEAD! H-how?! I watched you bleed! I was covered in your blood! Have you any idea what I went through, you selfish BASTARD!" John was now shaking with pure fury. Sherlock was very glad that Mycroft had the foresight to tie John up for this part.

"It was all necessary! You have to believe that!"

"How can I believe ANYTHING you say after you've FAKED YOUR OWN DEATH! The nights I spent dreaming of that night, watching you jump from that building and not being able to stop you...I can't believe this..." Suddenly John paused and slowly turned back to Mycroft. "You knew, didn't you? This whole bloody time, you knew he was alive." It wasn't a question.

Sherlock reached out to put his hands on John's shoulder to calm him down. John was having none of it. "Don't you bloody touch me, Sherlock Holmes." His voice was quieter, but held all of the previous rage. "Untie me...NOW!"

"You know why we can't do that, John." Mycroft sighed.

"To hell with you both! Untie me. I have a family to get back to. Unlike some people, I'd rather not suddenly disappear for no bloody reason."

"Family?" Sherlock gasped.

"You didn't tell him?" John asked, slightly amused at the now panicked look emerging on Mycroft's face.

"Tell me what, Mycroft?"

"Sherlock, your mission was of the utmost importance, I couldn't risk..."

"Tell me WHAT? Mycroft?" Sherlock asked again, louder this time. Unfortunately, he'd already deduced it just after he'd asked the first time.

"That...you're a father."

"No, he isn't." John interrupted. "Those are MY children. You lost any right you ever had when you decided it was a good idea to pretend to be dead."

"You have children? You mean, that night..."

"It's not important. My sons have nothing to do with you, and as soon as you untie me, neither will I."

"John, please. Give me a chance to explain. After everything I've done, everything I've been through...you at least owe me that."

"I OWE YOU?! I OWE YOU?!" John screamed. Everyone in the room was sure that if he weren't tied up right now, John probably would have killed Sherlock.

"If you could just be silent for a second and listen. If after you hear what I have to say, you still feel the same, I will release you."

When he didn't receive a verbal response from John, he continued. He told John everything, how he did what he did, what he'd done afterwards. How many people he'd killed, how many times he'd almost been killed. How most of the past year he spent chasing down and locating Moriarity's second in command, Colonel Sebastian Moran.

That names was familiar to John. He'd served with a Col. Moran in Afghanistan, but he was dishonorably discharged for killing civilians unprovoked.

Sherlock read John's face of realization. "You knew Moran?"

"Bloody hell, you're back from the dead from 10 minutes and you're back to reading my damn mind. Yes, I knew him, if it's even the same guy, but what difference does that make?"

Sherlock was about to answer when Mycroft cut into the conversation. "Gentlemen, that's not the matter at hand that needs to be discussed."

"Then what is it, Mycroft? Because I'm tired of your damned games. What?"

"We need your assistance with the apprehension of Col. Moran."

John's face was unreadable for a split second. "You two manipulate and lie to me for years on end, make me not only witness the suicide of my best friend, but the genetic father of my children, you put me through months of psychological and emotional torture, and now you want me to put my life on the line to help you catch a murderous psychopath?"

"Well, when you phrase it that way, it does sound a bit farfetched, " Mycroft agreed. "Let me phrase it this way. Should you fail to assist us, you and everyone you hold dear will be in danger."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Not at all. Merely stating a fact. John, he's gotten your information. He knows your connection with Sherlock and will probably use you and your family to get to him."

John paled at the thought. "So in order to 'help me', you've now put me and my family in danger..."

"John, I..."

"Save it, Sherlock. I...really don't want to hear it." He sighed and turned back to Mycroft. "Fine, but there must be some provisions first."

"I'm listening."

"First and foremost. I want my sons guarded every second of every day should I not be there. Second, I will be letting Greg know everything about what's going on. You want my help, you get his as well, and third..." he turned back to Sherlock. "...once this is all over and the threat is neutralized, I don't ever want to see you again."

"John..."

"Not up for debate."

"I will do everything in my power to assure the safety of your children and your fiancé," Mycroft cordially stated.

"Fiance?! You're marrying Lestrade?! How could y-?"

That thought was never finished. If looks could kill, Sherlock would have been dead the second he appeared before John, but the look he was receiving now, might have incited the Apocalypse.

"Now, untie me so I can contact Greg."

"Anthea has already contacted him and he is en route. When he gets here you will be untied, but could we please keep the violence to a minimum?"

* * *

Half an hour later, Greg arrived at their location and saw the Holmes brothers, both of them, standing before a restrained John.

"John! Are you all right?" he asked, rushing over to him and untying the rope on his wrists.

"Hello, Lestrade." Sherlock jealously spat, but was ignored.

"I'll be fine in just a second," John replied rubbing his wrists, trying to get blood circulating again. In a flash, he was right in Sherlock's face and his fist swiftly made connection with it. "Ok, I'm a bit better now," he said shaking his bruised knuckles. "Now let me catch you up to speed."


	13. Chapter 13

"...so let me get this straight." Greg said sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're not dead." he pointed to Sherlock. "You knew all along," he pointed to Mycroft. "...and the main threat, the one that probably should have been taken out first is now coming after all of us?"

"I suppose you can be taught!" Sherlock sneered.

"Sherlock," John dangerously rolled his eyes in the direction of the detective. "I am going to be as clear as I possible can. This..." he said gesturing around them. "...is your fault. All of it...your fault. So if you don't keep your oh so witty comments to yourself, if you belittle or moan about any little thing, if you even breathe incorrectly around me, you will be in pain for a loooong time. Don't forget, I'm a doctor and a soldier. I can wound without killing."

"Is your little threat supposed to scare me John? Other than your little tantrum, you wouldn't seriously hurt me. You couldn't."

"Ok." John shrugged. He then reached in his back pocket and noticed something very important was missing, but he knew what had happened to it. "Greg, can I borrow your gun for a second?" he asked not taking his eyes off of Sherlock.

"Ok guys, how about we just calm down and come up with a plan to take out the psychopath coming after us." Greg tried to placate the situation.

"I whole heartedly agree with the Chief Inspector. By the way Sherlock, I'd watch my tongue if I were you."

"And why would that be?"

"Just a precaution. I'd hate for you to be under the impression that I would do anything to stop Dr. Watson should you continue to needlessly provoke him. In fact, I may even return his gun." Mycroft coolly stated, not batting an eyelash.

It became eerily silent amongst the four men. There was so much raw emotion in the room, that the air was positively electric from it. Mainly between John and Sherlock. After a long and hard staredown, John broke away and regarded the elder Holmes brother.

"I take it that there's some sort of plan. You two are too damned weasel-y and manipulative to not have something."

"All compliments aside," Mycroft bristled a bit. "We do have a plan...well did. Sherlock?"

"The plan essentially called for John and I resuming our relationship as normal and eventually John being kidnapped."

"You bastard!" Greg shouted. "You absolute monster! You put him through all of this and you had the intention of-"

"It's fine, Greg." John interrupted. "It's really not unexpected. It's all I was really there for anyway. The scapegoat, the decoy, the distraction." He just joylessly shook his head and let out a long sigh. "So, Plan B?"

"We've a short list of his usual contacts and we managed to infiltrate his inner circle with one of my men acting as a comrade of his. We've gained quite the intelligence from his mission."

"Such as?"

"Sebastian Moran was a thug, a hired gun. He did what he was told, when he was told in exchange for money. People like that aren't normally fiercely loyal when the checks stop coming. So what's his motivation? Why would he try to continue where his boss left off?" Mycroft posed the question.

After a few seconds, a realization dawned on John. "He loved him...that's why I'm a target now. Sherlock took his love, he'd take Sherlock's, well hypothetically speaking of course."

"Exactly! That was why the initial plan was for you to lure him out. You see, he has waited for Sherlock to return before making any moves. He wants Sherlock there to see it."

"I see. That can be quite devastating," John snarked. "But what do we do now? I mean, I obviously don't love Sherlock any more and I really don't think I can stand to be together with him long enough to fake it."

"Will you stop being so childish?!" Sherlock snapped. "So I made you upset for a little bit, you obviously got over it and fell into the first lap to come alon-"

He was interrupted by a punch in the gut. What shocked everyone was...it didn't come from John.

"You'd be very wise to stop talking, Sherlock," he warned. He was tinged a bright red and was shaking with anger.

"Gentlemen, we won't get much accomplished unless we can at least behave like we're older than 16."

"Why should I care?" Sherlock coughed, trying to regain his breath that was temporarily knocked out of him. "Moran wants him, he can have him. Caring really isn't my area, after all."

"That's right, Sherlock. Make yourself the victim in all of this. Pull the 'woe is me' card. You don't want to help? Fine." John spat. "Mycroft, I'll be needing access to weapons. I'll need concealed and stealth. Make sure to get enough for myself and Greg. That is, if you're willing to..."

"Don't even finish that sentence. I'm right behind you, always."

John smiled for the first time in a few hours, then returned his attention to Mycroft. "I also need a docket of all of the information on Moran you have, if this is the same guy I remember, we need to be about two steps ahead at all times."

"You're not seriously thinking of charging in without some sort of plan? John, think of your boys. We need to..."

"I am thinking about them, Mycroft. Always. I don't want to raise them living in fear. This ends now. I'm open to ideas, but if we can't come up with anything, we'll go ahead with the bait idea."

"No, John. Let's think about this. We can't afford to be reckless. Lucas and Nigel need BOTH of us."

"Of course, you'll have the full assistance of my men, Captain Watson." Mycroft smirked. He'd rarely seen John in warrior mode. It was a magnificent sight to behold.

John briskly nodded and then turned back to Sherlock. They resumed their staring match. Both were hurt and furious with the other. "We're doing this with or without you, Sherlock. Is the 'Great Sherlock Holmes' just going to sit back while others clean the colossal mess he's made?"

"As if I'd give you the satisfaction, Dr. Watson."

"I can't recall you ever giving me much satisfaction, Mr. Holmes." John spat back. Greg just put an arm around John, both to comfort him, but to let Sherlock know that if he felt like continuing this little grudge match he'd have another opponent.

Mycroft sat as his desk and slowly sipped the brandy Anthea had brought for them during the initial argument. She'd ordered the weapons and the back-up wordlessly via text and placed a hand of her own on her boss' shoulder.

"Well men, we have our mission. Let's try not to kill each other in the process, hm?" he sighed, rubbing his temples.


	14. Chapter 14

It had been so long since John had set foot inside 221B, but it was just as he remembered it. Mrs. Hudson never rented it out again and apparently only came to do some basic cleaning to ensure that the dust didn't gather. He set down his overnight bag. The plan was simple, he'd pretend that he'd welcomed Sherlock back with open arms and moved back in with him, temporarily. Lestrade and the boys would remain at their home which was under constant surveillance. This was all so that Moran would get the idea that Sherlock and John were once again a couple. Time would only tell if it would work.

John opened the door to what was once his bedroom and plopped down on the bed.

"John, why are you in here?" Sherlock asked walking in behind John.

"Figure it out, genius." John snapped without even opening his eyes.

"We're supposed to be fooling the world into thinking we're a couple. Wouldn't that be an easier task if we went back to sharing a room?"

"No, Sherlock. It would not."

"Really? And why would that be?"

"Because hearing your voice, seeing you before me...after everything you put me through, it makes me furious enough to want to do terrible things to you. Terrible things."

Sherlock just sighed.

"Perhaps I didn't explain clearly enough why I did what I did. John, there were snipers trained on you, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson. I had no choice, but to..."

"Yes, you've explained all of that. Numerous times. I'm not as dense as you make me out to be."

"Then if you're not, why are you still so angry with me?"

"Because you put yourself in that situation. Why? Because you needed to prove your genius. You had to win 'the game'. Like you said, 'genius needs an audience'. I'm angry because you let me think you were dead for three whole years and you expected that you could just magically come back and everything would be fine. That I spent all of this time lost without out you. I'm angry because you don't seem to understand the gravity of just what I went through just because you went thorough things as well. And finally, I'm angry because you said that you loved me and now I can't trust that you even did that. I feel as though as I was nothing more than an experiment in human emotions for you. After all of this time, you still didn't trust me enough to help you with all of this. That is why I'm angry, Sherlock."

"So I let my pride cloud my decisions, that's not new. I behaved like an insensitive boar, again, John, not news. But do you actually believe I could go through everything I went through, if I didn't love you? I've seen and done things that...granted I may have done before, but never with the sense of urgency that I had this time. I always knew I would be coming back to you, I just never imagined that it would take so long. I didn't expect for you to get over me so quickly, if I'm honest, I didn't think you'd get over me at all. Before I left on the mission, Molly asked me what I would do if you'd learned to live without me. I'd never had an answer for that, because I had never considered that to be an option, because I knew I couldn't live without you."

"Wait...Molly? She knew?!"

"Yes, she assisted with faking the autopsy reports. I fail to see how..."

"Is there anyone else who knew? Anyone else you trusted more than me?"

"John, that's not what this is about!"

"Then enlighten me Sherlock, Tell me what this is about."

"This is about the fact that I still love you! The fact that I can't stand the fact that after all of this I've lost you to another man. The fact that that man is raising my children. Children we created together."

"Greg has been not only a wonderful father, but a wonderful human being since you left. This has nothing to do with him. Own up to your own shortcomings. This is all your fault, Sherlock. You expected me to just go on living in misery on the off-chance that you would return from the deadly mission that I'd no idea you were on. You led me to believe that there was no coming back for you. That's what death is Sherlock, no turning back. So now if you do die, there'll always be a part of my mind expecting you to show back up again. I'll be trapped in that realm of false hope and sorrow. This stunt has changed everything between us Sherlock. Even if by some miracle I was able to forgive you sometime down the line, there would be no chance of us getting together. Greg is the other father of my children."

"So that's it then. I save your life, and this is the thanks I get. You always accuse me of not caring enough, but when I finally do, it's...you know what, John. Fine. We'll take out Moran and go our separate ways. I think you've proven my point that emotions lead to nothing but pain."

"When you're involved...yes." John hissed. Sherlock turned and retreated down up the stairs. John let out a loud sigh and picked up his mobile from the bed.

"Hullo?" Greg responded on the other end.

"Hey, how are you guys doing without me?"

"Terribly, the boys and I miss you dreadfully. How are things on your end? Sherlock behaving?"

"Like a child, as always. I do feel bad though. He's apparently risked his life a few times for us, but I still can't forgive him..."

"This situation is a bit more complicated than that, John. Yes, he's saved us, but at what cost? And now our lives are on the line once again, because he couldn't ask for help. I'm not saying you should work yourself into a rage, but I'm also not saying you should forgive him without caution. Your emotions count, too."

"...thanks." John almost whispered. This is one of the reasons he'd fallen in love with his fiancé, he was so level-headed and wise. "The boys still up?"

"Of course, which would you like first?"

"Surprise me," he chuckled.

After quite a bit of shuffling and hear Greg explaining who it was a little voice became audible.

"Papa?"

"Yes, my special boy. It's me." He replied, not certain which of the two it was. He felt like if their hair weren't different colors he'd have that problem with them in person as well. They looked and acted so similarly it was almost spooky at times.

"Papa. No here."

"I'm staying over with a friend for a few days, ok?"

"K."

Then there was silence. John finally knew which of the boys this was. Nigel was the least talkative of the two. He said what he needed or wanted to say then he was done. Lucas would go on a bit further before running out of topics.

"Ok, munchkin. Can you put Lucas on?"

"K."

"I love you."

"Luvoo too."

There was more shuffling, then the second little voice came on.

"Papa? Where you?"

"I'll be gone for a few days, ok?"

"No k. Come here!" he whined into the phone. John had to fight back tears. It had only been a day, but he'd no idea how long he'd be gone. Of course, because they'd be fighting a trained sniper, part of his mind wondered if he'd be coming back at all. He pushed those thoughts away and tried to placate his son.

"I can't right now. But when I come back I'll have sooo many presents for you and your brother."

"No want pesents. Come here peese."

"I'll be home soon, ok. I promise. Can you give the phone back to Daddy? I love you, munchkin."

"Wuv you too"

"Don't mind him, love. They just miss you is all." Greg answered as soon as he got the phone back.

"I miss you all...so much. I wish I didn't have to do this."

"Hey, cheer up! When you come back we can go ahead and set the date for the wedding, put the finishing touches on your office, and take the boys to every zoo in the UK! Just...be sure to come back, all right? No matter what."

"Wild horses couldn't stop me." John countered. "I'm going to head to bed now, long day tomorrow. Give the boys extra kisses from me."

"Will do. I love you, Dr. Watson."

"And I you, Chief Inspector Lestrade."

With that, they hung up. John plopped back down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He finally allowed the tears to fall. This was a game of life or death he was being forced to play, and it affected so may people. He just hoped that he'd once again come out a winner.

Sherlock was standing outside of John's bedroom door. He listened to the entire exchange and was now listening to John quietly sob. _'John was right. I've made a right mess of things...like always. I have to fix this.'_ He resolved and quietly made his way back to his bedroom. He had a lot of thinking to do.

* * *

John awoke and sleepily looked around his room. The dark night sky had given way to the typical bright grey sky that London is known for. He looked at his watch and saw that is was nine in the morning. After a quick shower and shave, he headed downstairs preparing to go out for breakfast. He found Sherlock Holmes in his dressing gown in the same spot on the sofa, sitting silently and not moving. Having become very accustomed to Sherlock's frequent 'mind-palace' visits, he continued to the front door, completely ignoring the man, until his baritone voice called out.

"John..."

"What?"

"It's occurred to me that I may not have...apologized for my actions and their unintended consequences."

John's head whipped around as it Sherlock had just grown a foot from his forehead. "Excuse me?"

"It was wrong of me to not expect you to go on living. It was all I wanted you to do after all. I'm also sorry that you're stuck here, but we'll soon stop Moran and you can return to your family."

Completely stunned by what was being said, John stood there and stared at the man who wasn't making eye contact, as he was just staring at the ceiling.

"I-I appreciate your words, Sherlock. I know that can't have been easy. I also should have displayed a bit more gratitude to your efforts to save my life. For that, I'm sorry."

An uncomfortable silence fell upon them that seemed to stretch on and on, until Sherlock broke it.

"Off to breakfast, I see."

"Yes...would you...would you care to join me?"

It was Sherlock's turn to be surprised. He slowly rose from the sofa and stared at John in disbelief. "If you'll have me."

"Well, you should probably think about changing into a proper pair of trousers then..."

Sherlock nodded and went upstairs. John leaned against the door and sighed. He'd spent so much of that time wishing Sherlock was here and here he was...he was still furious with Sherlock, but he can't let that stop him from trying to make peace with the man. If there was one thing he was sure of, second chances, especially ones of this nature, are hard to come by.


	15. Chapter 15

The unease was palpable as the duo who once were inseparable, now were having trouble making eye contact.

"So..your children. What are they like?" Sherlock hesitantly asked after a while.

"Well, They've recently turned two. I have two boys, Lucas and Nigel. They're both very well-behaved so far. They've just begun speaking, but they aren't...overly thrilled about it. I mean that in the sense that, starting a conversation is one of the most difficult things about them, for strangers anyway. Around Greg and I they relax and will have a bit more of a chat, but they're not chatty by any means. They are very affectionate though. They like to be held or hold on to our trousers while we walk around the house. The only main difference between them besides their hair is their appetite. If one likes one type of food, you can almost guarantee the other doesn't."

"Do they...do they look like me?"

"Well, Nigel has your hair color, but other than that, not really. They look almost like copies of me when I was their age."

"Oh..." Sherlock softly said.

"Y'know we'd never actually gotten around to discussion of us becoming parents. Did you ever really want children?"

"If I'm honest, I'd have to say no. My childhood was privileged but scarring. If you include my past and my general dealings with emotions, I can't say I would have made a very good father."

"I see."

"But, for you I would have tried."

"I honestly didn't think I had what it took to be a parent. My parents were pretty negligent when they weren't drinking, so I can't say I had any good role models. I was always really stiff and uncomfortable whenever treating a child in the clinics, but I dunno...Ever since the boys were born, I can't imagine my life without them. You see, when you love someone, you do things you'd never dream of doing."

"...like jumping from a building."

John sighed. "I suppose."

"Would you have told them about me? About where they come from?"

"Eventually. Perhaps once they reached puberty or maybe even adulthood. I felt that it wouldn't be fair to Greg, who's been with me every step of the way. He's their other father, I don't want them thinking otherwise."

"I see...yes, you're probably right. So...you're in love with Greg, then?"

"I am. Just as much as I was with you, but in a different way."

"Different?"

"Yes, you both awakened sides of me I never knew existed. Made me see things, feel things, in ways I never would have on my own."

"I'm happy for you, John."

"I appreciate that Sherlock. I'll always treasure what we had. Who knows, we may even go back to being friends."

"But what if...what if I can't go back to being just friends with you John. You too, showed me and taught me things. You made me feel things I hadn't felt before. What if I don't want to accept that we're meant to be only friends."

"Then we sever ties for a while, and try to start fresh a few years from now. Let me make myself perfectly clear, Sherlock. I'm not leaving Greg."

They sat in the fog of uncomfortability once more until John broke it this time.

"Besides, this could be a real turning point for you. You 'revive' yourself and clear your name. You can go back to working cases and perhaps now that you know how love feels, you can find someone who'll make you happy."

"You made me happy, John. What if I mess it all up again?"

"You can't live expecting your mistakes to repeat. Avoid them at all cost, but never forget them. That's how you grow as a person and find happiness to hold onto."

"When did you acquire such wisdom?"

"Wisdom comes from experience, Sherlock. You're a brilliant man, but you closed yourself off from matters of the heart for far too long."

"Perhaps you're right."

"...would you like to see pictures of them?" John suddenly offered.

"Of the children? Of course."

John pulled out his phone and browsed through the photos with Sherlock. There were pictures from the day they were born, their first Christmas, their first birthday, cutting their first teeth, visiting their grandparents, there were even a couple of them and Harry. The kind of picture that appeared the most frequently, however, was of them sleeping. They looked so peaceful and angelic. Sherlock had to admit, John was right, they really looked nothing like him. They both had John's plump nose and sapphire eyes. They even had his forehead wrinkles when they got upset like he did. It was strange, Sherlock thought the second he saw them, he'd immediately grow attached but, he didn't feel anything really. They were just children. Even though they shared half of his genetic make-up, he felt that that was all he could provide for them.

"Thank you for showing me these, John. They're lovely."

"They're what kept me going...well them, and Greg. That's why we have to hurry and get rid of this Moran creep. I don't want to miss anymore of my time with them than I have to."

"Right...well, according to the intelligence gathered, if we don't find him, he'll find us."


	16. Chapter 16

It had been roughly two weeks, and John was positive that he was slowly losing his mind. It wasn't from living with Sherlock once more. He'd fallen back into sort of the same routine as before he'd left. He'd find limbs in places where they shouldn't be or put out the occasional fire, he'd practically force Sherlock to eat or sleep. That wasn't the issue. He was losing his mind because he missed his fiance and children. Since the whole things started, Lestrade visited maybe twice under the guise of needing help with a case or helping to clear Sherlock's name. Every time he left, John wished he could go with him, back to his home. 221B just wasn't home anymore, and it hadn't been in a long time.

Sherlock enjoyed having John back around. He tried to go on as normal, refusing to eat or sleep, claiming it to be unnecessary. However, he wasn't as rude or as crass as he once was. He didn't insult John's intelligence anymore and even managed to behave himself whenever Greg came over to visit. He wanted to show John that he was willing to make some changes in order to keep him him his life, in any capacity.

Two days later, the duo walked into the New Scotland Yard to speak with Lestrade. As they walked through, you could see heads turn, hear gasps, and even see a couple people faint at the sight of Sherlock. He just breezed through undeterred, until he was approached by a familiar weasel-faced forensic investigator and curly haired Sargeant.

"What in hell is the meaning of this?" Anderson shouted. "You're meant to be dead."

"Yes, so sorry to disappoint, Anderson. A pleasure as always." he briskly replied and tried to continue to his destination.

"This doesn't make any sense," Donovan whined. "John, what is going on here?"

John just shrugged. He really didn't know what he was meant to say. He hadn't jumped off a bloody building, what does he have to answer for?

"So what this was all some sick practical joke? You two disgust me! I expect this from you, Freak, but I'd thought you had a bit more decency than that, Dr. Watson."

Sherlock whirled around and watched for John's imminent explosion, and was shocked when it didn't come. John just cocked his head to the side.

"Decency? Hilarious. I'm being lectured on decency by the two of you. Never mind that I wasn't in on his little stunt, or that what you think of me means absolutely nothing to me. But the fact that someone who has been cheating on his wife for years with an officer who goes down faster than an elevator with severed wires has the absolute gall to lecture me on what it means to be a decent human being is nothing short of hilarious."

"Now wait just a minute!" Donovan shrieked. "What about you? Did you get tired of sleeping with our dear Chief Inspector the second Mr. Holmes 'rose from the grave'?"

"Quite the contrary, actually. But, I understand you not understanding what actual love looks like, given that you seem to fall madly in love with anyone who makes eye contact with you for three seconds. Now if you're quite done being your usual selves, we actually have business to attend to. Perhaps you could at least pretend like you have jobs to do." With that, John put his hands in his pockets and strolled off, leaving three very stunned people in his wake. Sherlock regained his sense and quickly followed.

"John...that was...I've never seen that side of you before."

John just smirked. "Well, everyone changes, it's not always for the better, it seems. I used to rant and scream, but that would be making a spectacle of myself for no real reason. Granted, what you just saw wasn't exactly mature, but I'm quite tired of letting comments like that slide until I explode in anger."

"Well, I thought you were magnificent. I always did underestimate you..." he wistfully said.

The two arrived at Greg's new and bigger office. The secretary showed them in and Greg greeted his fiance and his friend.

"Hullo boys, any leads?"

"We think Moran may be making his move sometime soon. Now that Sherlock and I are back in the public eye, he has more motivation to seek us out."

"Well, the sooner the better." Greg said.

"Be careful what you wish for, Lestrade." Sherlock chided. Of course, fate had a way of being a real pain in the nether regions. Not 3 minutes later, Donovan rushes in and starts yelling.

"We've got a kidnapping!"

"All right, put the usual guys on it," Greg said, almost waving her away.

"Sir, you don't understand...the kidnapped children...are yours."

The three men sprang into action and began to scour the city for any clues on Moran's whereabouts. The odd thing was...there was no trail. No witnesses, no fingerprints...nothing.

"I don't get it. I thought the point of all of this was to lure us out for a confrontation. Why would he try to make it difficult for us to find him," Sherlock pondered aloud.

"I just can't wait to get my hands on the bastard!" John growled. Sherlock had very rarely seen John like this. In fact, the first time was his "resurrection". He was grateful to not be the cause or the recipient of that rage at the moment, only guessing at the depths it reached.

"Don't worry, John. He will be found. He's nowhere near Moriarity's level. He's bound to have slipped up somewhere."

"Am I now?" a deep, menacing voice called from behind them. A man began to casually stride towards them, he was holding what looked to be a large sac in his arms. "Hello boys. Miss me?"


	17. Chapter 17

"Not particularly, Moran." Sherlock spat. "You've resorted to kidnapping now? It's obvious who the brains in your relationship was."

"You're right, a low tactic. But, it got you here. Which is all I ever wanted. You see, we ned to have a little chat."

"Oh?"

"Yup. See you took something from me. Something I care about...I can't let that slide. You understand."

"So you've come to kill us. Brilliant. You know, I didn't know snipers got this close to their targets."

"We usually don't but I figured this was a special occasion. I wanted a good view." He then pulls out a pistol and preps to fire it.

"I'd drop that if I were you." John boredly stated.

"Oh really, and why's that?"

"Because I've got a clean shot." a voice called from directly behind Moran. Greg Lestrade popped out with a pistol of his own, trained right on the man.

"You won't shoot." Moran goaded.

"Oh? Enlighten us." Greg responded.

"Well, since Mr. Holmes took out all of my comrades, it is true I don't have any back up...but then again, that means I also didn't have anyone else to tell the location of your brats to."

Sherlock began to laugh. Stoic, robotic Sherlock was guffawing like a madman.

"You really were nothing but a hired gun," he chuckled, gaining composure. "First, they're not mine. I could care less what happens to them. So there's that. Second, you honestly believe we don't know how to shoot and not kill you? I'm pretty well versed in getting information out of unwilling subjects, and if not me then my brother will gladly take over. Finally, you've stated yourself that you're alone. What's o stop us from just making you talk here and now?"

"I had a feeling you'd be like that, so I brought an extra incentive. See this?" he asked slowly pulling out a small remote. There are explosives linked to this location, their location and other places around London. If my heart rate drops below a certain point, well...'boom', as they say."

"You absolute monster!" John gasped.

"Now now, Captain, flattery won't get you anywhere."

"What do you want, Moran?"

"Really? You're really asking me that? What I want you can't give me, but instead I'd like the lives of the Dynamic Duo over here."

"Sorry, that's not an option. Anything else?" Greg calmly asked, cocking his gun.

"Oh, well...I guess world peace is out too." Suddenly Moran whipped around and disarmed Greg, shooting him in the process.

"Greg! GREG! NO!" John yelled racing over to his fiance. In his mad rush, he didn't see Moran take aim for him, he didn't hear the gun until it was too late.

Bang.

A shot was fired. But John felt no pain. He opened his eyes to find Sherlock standing with his arms spread in front of him. Suddenly he dropped to his knees, then finally met with the ground.

"NO! Sherlock!"

John looked down at the two men lying on the ground before him. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real. He couldn't go through this again...

He dropped to his knees and hung his head. He waited for the final shot. The one that would end all of his misery. Then, the memories of his boys flashed in his mind. No, he had to live on. He had to find a way to fight on. He had to get his boys back. He had to...

Bang.

Another shot was fired.


	18. Chapter 18

John hesitantly opened his eyes. What he saw was a complete shock to him. Sebastian Moran was now clutching a bloody hand and staring furiously at Greg Lestrade who'd managed to not only stand, but fire a shot, rendering the sniper ineffective.

"How..." John whispered.

"Come now, John. Bulletproof vests have been part of the uniform for ages," he chuckled. "Doesn't make it hurt any less though. Knocked the breath out of me for a bit."

"I should have aimed between your bloody eyes," growled the injured criminal.

"Hindsight's always 20/20, eh?" the officer joked. "John, you need to attend to Sherlock. Back up and an ambulance are on the way."

John just nodded and sprinted towards his fallen comrade. There was blood everywhere. It was just like last time. Images from the first time flooded his vision.

"Sherlock! Sherlock, stay with me!" he frantically yelled.

"John, you're unhurt. That is...that's good."

"Yes, thanks to you. Now we have to get you taken care-"

"It's too late, John. I've bled far too much. I may not be a doctor, but I know my chances of survival."

"Don't talk like that! You're bloody Sherlock Holmes, you can't die! Not this way..."

"Don't be foolish, John," his baritone voice resounded in John's ears. "I suppose this time, I won't have to leave a note."

"Stop it this instant!"

"You were my first friend and first love John. Thank you for showing me that those things weren't beyond my reach."

"They're still not, you daft fool. Help is-"

"Goodbye, my blogger." he slowly closed his eyes, and his breathing became more and more shallow.

"No! NO! Don't you fucking do this again, you bastard! Come back! SHERLOCK!"

* * *

It was a cool, breezy autumn day. In a local park, there was a wedding being held. Chief Inspector Gregory Lestrade was marrying Johnathan Hamish Watson in a small ceremony witnessed by only their closest friends and associates. As the two men exchanged vows, they were presented with their rings by their five-year old sons, Lucas and Nigel. It was a simple, yet elegant affair. The priest following the typical protocol asked,

"If anyone here opposes this union, may they speak now or forever hold their peace."

The couple scanned the crowd. They received a nod from Mycroft Holmes and his fiancée, Vanessa, or as she's more commonly known, Anthea. Mrs. Hudson dabbed her eyes, unable to contain her happiness. Molly and her new boyfriend, Jack, looked on giving their silent blessing. They looked out at the people who'd gathered in order to celebrate their special day. Taking stock of all of the people they had in their lives. They both slowly turned and glanced at the best man, who was sitting in a wheelchair beside them.

"What?" the deep voice called. "I have nothing to say. Just be sure to cherish what you're getting, Lestrade. I'll be watching and waiting."

"I wouldn't expect anything less, mate." he chuckled.

Sherlock ran a hand through his signature curls and watched as the two men shared their first kiss as husbands. The gunshot wound he received left him paralyzed, but he recently received hopes of walking again. He'd absolutely hated many things in life. He hated that, he was confined to a wheelchair for the forseeable future, he hated that his John was now someone else's, he hated that his children insist on sitting on his lap and calling him 'uncle'. But Sherlock is well aware that things are never permanent. There is always that chance for change. Sure, some things can never be repaired once broken, but if they can...well, you do every thing to make those things or those people whole again. Even if, in the end, it hurts you. Sherlock Holmes has always been a great man, he's now become a good one.

Well, we've finally reached the end of this story. But so much was left unanswered! What was Moran's ultimate fate? How did Sherlock survive? What lies in store for our heroes? Be on the look out for various one-shots and things of that nature. When Sherlock Holmes is involved, there's always a story in the works.


End file.
